Reunions and Remnants
by starry19
Summary: 6x09 Tag - "In truth, though, it wouldn't have mattered if she was a federal agent in the heart of Washington, DC. She belonged with him, and he wasn't going to do this without her at his side. He had gone two years without her, and he refused to do so any longer."


**AN:** Oh, look at me, not working at work. Instead, I'm dying of feelings. I'm in love with The Mentalist 2.0, and I hope you all are, too.

**Reunions and Remnants**

The detention suite wasn't as bad as Abbott had wanted it to sound. There was a bed, one that, if he was being honest, was more comfortable than the one he had been sleeping on for almost two years.

There was a distinct lack of instruments that looked like they were used for torture, something he was sure Abbott regretted.

After a while, someone brought him tea.

It wasn't very good.

Still, he drank it, wondering how long it was going to be before someone called Abbott's superior and he got his way and out of this room. The FBI wanted him badly enough to go all the way to the ends of the earth for him, and they weren't going to be hung up on the few demands he had.

Well, the one that really mattered, at least.

He got Lisbon. It was his one non-negotiable.

He had learned that she was a police chief in some podunk down, spending her time making sure high school kids weren't getting too rowdy at parties. She was wasting her talent.

In truth, though, it wouldn't have mattered if she was a federal agent in the heart of Washington, DC. She belonged with him, and he wasn't going to do this without her at his side.

He had gone two years without her, and he refused to do so any longer.

God, it had been wonderful to see her. He had savored the moment for just a second when he opened the door, drinking in her profile, dark hair falling down her back. After missing her for so long, she was finally close enough to touch.

When she smiled at him, it was like everything that had ever been between them came rising to the surface again. He had been baring his soul to her in those letters, and it was different with the layers of secrecy stripped away now.

She made a crack about his beard, thanked him for writing, and then he couldn't take it. He pulled her into his arms, his cheek pressed against her hair.

"Oh, I missed you," he whispered, inhaling deeply. And he had. Missed her with an intensity that had consumed him some nights.

"I missed you, too," she breathed back, voice slightly muffled by his shoulder.

This was home now, he realized. It was wherever she was. That had been the reason he had never truly been happy when he was gone. She had been home for a decade, the only one he had.

And now he was back where he was supposed to be.

Even if that meant he had to endure some time in a cushy detention suite in Texas, of all places.

After a few hours had passed, Agent Fischer, _Kim_, opened the door.

He raised an eyebrow at her. Of course, he probably should have known better. One day, he would learn to stop getting involved with women he met while hiding out. It never ended the way he imagined it would. Yes, he had known who Lorelei was working for from the beginning, but it didn't mean he envisioned her dying.

Kim Fischer had been a different story.

It wasn't that he was truly attracted to her, though she did make a pretty picture. He was simply lonely, starved for human contact, for someone who understood the nuances of English.

Would he have slept with her?

Maybe. Probably not.

Hell, he was drunk enough that things wouldn't have worked out anyway. He had needed the alcohol to calm himself down. His left hand was frighteningly light, and it affected him. No, he hadn't taken the ring off for Kim...he had done it for himself. He was supposed to be free now, leaving his past behind him, and it was hard to do when his wedding band acted like an anchor.

"Mr. Jane," Kim said, sitting lightly in one of the rooms two chairs, "I have some news for you." Her face was impassive, though her eyes looked a little amused.

He smiled. "Let me guess. The FBI has agreed to my terms after all?" He said it like a question, but it was definitely more of a statement.

"Not exactly," she told him. "But some of the higher ups decided to release you from our immediate custody while they thought it over."

That clearly meant they were giving in. They just needed some time to figure out how to make it sound like what they were doing was their idea.

He snorted. Abbott was going to be practically livid. The thought cheered him.

"Is there any particular reason _you're_ the one telling me this? Surely you could have gotten an underling to let me go." The woman really had been an excellent actress. He supposed some of the fault fell on himself - he had definitely not been looking for subterfuge, not after two years. When Franklin had called and told him that the FBI was there, he should have known, but he simply hadn't suspected her.

A mistake he would only make once.

"I wanted to apologize," she finally said, looking like she actually meant it. Perhaps she did.

He waved his hand dismissively. "You were sent to manipulate me into coming back. You did an excellent job of it, I must say. I'm quite disappointed in myself, but that shouldn't take away from your performance."

She looked as though she wanted to make a sarcastic retort, but thought better of it. "You have a room booked at the Best Western. A driver will take you there." Her voice was professional again, unemotional.

He stood, reaching for his discarded (and unbelievably wrinkled) suit jacket. "It's been fun," he said, one hand on the door handle. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you."

Kim sighed, then shrugged. "I'm sure, Mr. Jane." It could have been his imagination, but she looked unhappy about the way their conversation had gone. "Just so you know," she added as he was halfway out the door, "Lisbon is in room 4421."

She couldn't see him smile, but he certainly was. It was her way of trying to make up for some of the deception, telling him that the woman whom he had demanded be present wouldn't be far away.

Perhaps he and _Agent Fischer_ could come to some sort amicability, after all.

Lisbon was two floors above him. It was almost like he could feel her closeness, like he could feel her heart beating.

He showered quickly, making a mental note to get some new clothes at some point in the near future. Within an hour of his arrival, he was knocking on her door.

Her face was suspicious as she answered, then her expression changed to the same unadulterated joy he had been feeling all day.

"Hey," he said, like he had earlier.

"Hey, yourself," she returned, smile still radiant. "The FBI let you go?"

He shooed her aside to enter the room, not bothering to ask permission. Some things never changed. "Sort of," he said, looking around, even though the small space was basically identical to the room he was currently occupied. "I think they're in the process of coming around."

When he turned his gaze back to her, she was standing with her arms crossed, looking at him suspiciously. It was so familiar an expression that his heart caught.

"So what makes you think I even want to give up my job to work with you?" She raised her eyebrows.

He smiled. "Oh, come on, Lisbon. You and I make an excellent team. And you'd be doing much more good working with the FBI than you would arresting people for jaywalking. We could get Cho on the team, too. It'd be just like old times."

Except everything had changed.

Her expression dimmed a bit at his words, and he hurriedly plowed on, wanting to dispel her sadness. "Besides, you working with me is part of my terms. If you tell me no, I'm not taking the deal, which means I'm going to jail. Do you really want that on your conscience?"

Exasperation returned to her face, and he bit his smile back. He had missed her so very, very much.

"We'll see," was all she said, but he knew he had won.

Abruptly, he hugged her again. This was what life was supposed to be, teasing Lisbon, knowing he was going to get to be near her every day. He had been an idiot to think that he could have really started a new life somewhere without her, even some place that could have been paradise.

Like he had written in his last letter, her absence was the one thing that made life strange and sad.

After a startled second, her arms went around him, this time sliding under his jacket, her fingers locking at the small of his back. He closed his eyes, simply enjoying the moment, her warmth.

When he pulled back, her eyes were suspiciously glossy, and he knew that this was just as emotional for her as it was for him.

"Shall we get some dinner?" he asked. "Officially, I'm not supposed to leave the hotel, but there's a restaurant downstairs."

She agreed, trying to hide a small sniffle as she looked around for her purse.

Once, when they were in the elevator, he looked over to find her smiling at him. He grinned back, knowing precisely how she felt. As they stepped out, he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers.

It was cliche, but together was a wonderful place to be.

Dinner was simple, Best Westerns not being particularly noted for their fine dining experiences, but to him, it was better than five stars in Paris. Lisbon kept laughing at his stories, their legs touching under the table. Eventually, he stopped trying to pretend it was an accident.

He couldn't get enough of her, of hearing her voice, watching her tuck her hair behind her ears, seeing the expressions that would cross her face. They lingered at the table for hours. It felt like they were sharing every detail of their lives that had happened while they were apart, and he took a moment to be immensely grateful that he had come back.

She was the one person that knew him, knew all of his flaws, his vices, the darkness that used to engulf him. And she loved him anyway.

He had told Kim that he missed being understood.

She had understood his words, but Lisbon understood him.

When the restaurant finally shut down for the night, they rose reluctantly, walking slowly, their shoulders bumping every few steps.

He saw her to her room, both of them pausing outside of the door. He wasn't ready to give her up just yet.

"Come in for a drink?" she asked, looking almost shy. Apparently, she wasn't ready to let him go, either.

"I'd love to," he told her gratefully.

The drink turned out to be a six-pack of beers that she had picked up from the gas station down the block, but he could have cared less.

Coupled with the wine from dinner, he was pleasantly warm and tipsy, sitting next to her on the standard hotel-issue couch.

The conversation became slower, softer. He realized absently that her head had found its way onto his shoulder. He rested his cheek against her hair, eyes closing of their own accord.

When he discovered that she was, in fact, asleep, he smiled tenderly, softly touching her face. With a sigh, he stood, then leaned down to scoop her into his arms.

As he gently lowered her onto the bed, her fingers tightened on the lapels of his jacket. "Stay," she murmured, eyes still closed. He hesitated, reminding himself of why this was a bad idea. His usual excuses didn't seem to be holding much water.

Then she spoke again, lids opening to reveal those green eyes he had thought about so much. "Please," she whispered. "I'm so tired of missing you."

He swore his heart stopped for a few seconds. There was nothing on earth that could make him deny her after that.

He paused to toe off his shoes before swinging into bed beside her, his front to her back, arms around her again.

They had come so far from where they had started, and so far from when he had left. There was still a long way to go, but they would make it.

The past twenty four hours had been a whirlwind. From an FBI plane, to a detention suite, to Lisbon's arms.

He smiled into Lisbon's hair as she twined their fingers again.

It was one hell of an auspicious return.

He wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
